He couldn't help but feel as though he were being looked at through the same kind of lens that he was seeing Crowley through, as if the demon were cataloging and memorizing things that he did and didn't recognize, and it left a little thought niggling in the back of his brain, like a thought he couldn't quite grasp onto that seemed very important nonetheless. He found himself needing, on top of a very strong drink - though he thought perhaps alcohol wasn't exactly the best choice, given Crowley's current state, though he suspected he would want it regardless - to root through the shop and drag down any number of books that would hopefully have answers to questions that still didn't know they wanted to be asked. One step at a time, Aziraphale.
The indignant sputtering and postured hissing the little lizard gave from that mop of dirty hair made him forget for a moment just how tense the situation was, and he couldn't stop the unimpressed look he gave her, his lips pursing with subtle amusement.
"Just so you're aware, I've spent the past 6,000 years getting used to you-uh-his-er..." Lord, it was so hard to get over the feeling that talking to-...her? was just talking to Crowley in roundabout ways. "Literal hissy fits. I think you'll find tha-oh." He bit his tongue, his cheeks turning faintly red as he caught himself, ashamed for having poked fun at Crowley's nature when he wasn't himself. It wasn't the type of joke that would have landed well under most circumstances, would have made him irritable unless they were in a particularly spirited, playful bout of verbal sparring. He shook his head, casting his eyes away as he let Crowley put distance between them. "I'm sorry, my dear. That was unkind of me, wasn't it? Do forgive me."
He watched as Crowley unfolded from around him, somewhat unsettled by the knowledge that walking home would require enough distance between them to maneuver the streets. He didn't want to remove the comfort he had been giving, so even as he pulled back himself, shifted to stand, he kept his wings manifested and arching close, the arm that had been on his back hovering near his shoulder in a gesture meant to invite him to literally walk underneath his wing, should he still want the shelter and comfort he'd been giving.
And then, as he waited for him to stand, looking at the state of his clothes and hair and the layers upon layers of dirt and grime that covered him, he snapped a quick miracle with his other hand, removing the filth form his person and tidying and repairing what he could of his outfit, even from the scales of his tiny, persnickety partner. And then, hoping to draw out more of the Crowley he knew, he reached behind his ear, another quick miracle bringing one of the multitudinous pairs of sunglasses that had been left at the bookshop over the years from the ether and bringing them around to hold out to him like a sleight-of-hand coin with a small, playful smile.
"Tada. Consider it recompense for the paint on my coat." At the very least, being clean and less unkempt would probably help to make him feel more like himself. Crowley may have teased Aziraphale for his own fussiness, but he knew he was just as particular about his appearance, maybe even more-so in some ways.
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rosecarmine
(no subject)
Date: 2020-04-05 12:07 pm (UTC)The indignant sputtering and postured hissing the little lizard gave from that mop of dirty hair made him forget for a moment just how tense the situation was, and he couldn't stop the unimpressed look he gave her, his lips pursing with subtle amusement.
"Just so you're aware, I've spent the past 6,000 years getting used to you-uh-his-er..." Lord, it was so hard to get over the feeling that talking to-...her? was just talking to Crowley in roundabout ways. "Literal hissy fits. I think you'll find tha-oh." He bit his tongue, his cheeks turning faintly red as he caught himself, ashamed for having poked fun at Crowley's nature when he wasn't himself. It wasn't the type of joke that would have landed well under most circumstances, would have made him irritable unless they were in a particularly spirited, playful bout of verbal sparring. He shook his head, casting his eyes away as he let Crowley put distance between them. "I'm sorry, my dear. That was unkind of me, wasn't it? Do forgive me."
He watched as Crowley unfolded from around him, somewhat unsettled by the knowledge that walking home would require enough distance between them to maneuver the streets. He didn't want to remove the comfort he had been giving, so even as he pulled back himself, shifted to stand, he kept his wings manifested and arching close, the arm that had been on his back hovering near his shoulder in a gesture meant to invite him to literally walk underneath his wing, should he still want the shelter and comfort he'd been giving.
And then, as he waited for him to stand, looking at the state of his clothes and hair and the layers upon layers of dirt and grime that covered him, he snapped a quick miracle with his other hand, removing the filth form his person and tidying and repairing what he could of his outfit, even from the scales of his tiny, persnickety partner. And then, hoping to draw out more of the Crowley he knew, he reached behind his ear, another quick miracle bringing one of the multitudinous pairs of sunglasses that had been left at the bookshop over the years from the ether and bringing them around to hold out to him like a sleight-of-hand coin with a small, playful smile.
"Tada. Consider it recompense for the paint on my coat." At the very least, being clean and less unkempt would probably help to make him feel more like himself. Crowley may have teased Aziraphale for his own fussiness, but he knew he was just as particular about his appearance, maybe even more-so in some ways.